Middle Child
by flipptinkwell
Summary: [onhold]Lady Gwenneth must marry off her remaining daughters. Her youngest will wed no less than the Prince. Her middle child will have to do with a sweet nobleman. What does Daria have to say about this?
1. Lady Gwenneth's Plans

Discalimer: I own naught of anyone you recognize. Of course, you all already know that.

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Lady Gwenneth had a problem on her hands.

With one dearly departed husband and three bundles of womanly joy on her hands (and all of age, as the youngest had turned sixteen just two months ago), and only the eldest wed, how was she to fulfill her husband's wish of grandchildren? Enough to overrun the house, he had said. They were to visit as often as possible, and call him "Pappa." Now, Lady Gwenneth was of a kinder sort than most noblewoman, but even she wondered how much time the late Lord Oswald, Duke of Desbond had had to think up such ... specific dreams.

But, on to the noblewoman's daughters. The oldest was the picture of grace. With a tall stature, and, taking after her father, she had hair of a raven-black, wavy sort, and eyes of a twinkling violet hue, a lesser shade of her mother's. She had married Sir Daven of Bast, and although they were happy, Lady Gwenneth did not see any sign of children from the stately pair. They had been married with haste, and they seemed to be taking their time about everything from renovating Sir Daven's manor to hiring new servants.

The youngest was just emerging into womanhood, with a petite, slight figure. She was just learning to manage her golden curls enough to keep them pinned up and away from her heart-shaped face. She was the exact opposite of her older sister, bubbly and spirited, quite unable to keep her emotions in check. Her light, almond-colored eyes (her father's) gave away everything even when her face did not. She was much loved by everyone from the servants to visiting nobles, and Lady Gwenneth intended to marry her off to none less than the Prince.

And, for the middle daughter. Lady Gwenneth was actually quite worried about her. For a while, she had guiltily wished her most ... questionable daughter had been born a boy, only to quell such thoughts upon seeing her face and realizing that her actions would be seen as disrespectful either way. Lady Daria did not posses Lady Elizabeth's grace nor Lady Sarah's joy. She had been the most hard-pressed by their governess, learning to curtsey and dance properly after hours of heartbreaking torture. She hadn't taken entirely after her mother nor her father, but rather, fell in the middle, as she did in birthing order. Her hair fell in tamer curls than Lady Sarah's, and were of a dark brown hue, as were her eyes. She was quite tall, towering over both her mother and her younger sister, although she didn't quite reach Lady Elizabeth's height. While Lady Sarah was filled with joy and rarely showed and angry disposition, Lady Daria could often be quite sarcastic, and managed to keep her emotions hidden, albeit not as well as Lady Elizabeth. Lady Gwenneth supposed she could find a suitable noble of a sweeter disposition to balance her unruly daughter's and send them off.

With a feeling of quiet dread, she called one of the maids in the library with her to send for her daughters.

---

Lady Gwenneth was about to ... enlighten her daughters (or, at least Sarah, since she would not disgrace Daria in such a manner as to tell her she believed her daughter would scare off many suitors with her demeanor) of her marriage plans for them when a pageboy stumbled into the room. He was quite young, and behind him she spied an able-bodied footmen, who had evidently been leading the way. Thanking him with a look, she turned to boy, who began to speak at a curt nod from her.

"His Majesty King Evan of Kyrria, leading general in times of war--" Lady Gwenneth politely listened to the King's accomplishments for at least ten more seconds before she interrupted him.

"Perhaps we should get to the subject of the message?" The page boy blushed awkwardly, and went on.

"His Majesty King Evan of Kyrria--" he began again, and Lady Gwenneth could hear her daughters groan slightly. To her relief, he got to the point, "--has sent a company to investigate news of various ogre-induced terror among the common-folk. He requests that the knights be allowed lodging in various noble homes. My Lady, as you are the Duchess of Desbond, the king has requested that the Prince and two of his accompanying knights take their lodging within your home--" at this, she sent a delighted glance toward Sarah, who looked back, confused. Oh, drat, she muttered inaudibly. She still hadn't told them of her musings. She listened to the rest of the page's message, realized the company would be arriving in a week, and sent him off.

After a flurry of new orders for the servants, she told her children of her plans that night. Sarah had stayed smiling, although Lady Gwenneth could see she wasn't truly happy. To increase her dismay, Daria was giving her a blank stare, only her clenched fists giving her mother a glimpse of her anger.

---

In the later hours of the night, after all the household was asleep, an entirely too-clean scullery maid crept out of a large estate. Boris hiccuped as she neared the gates. He could've sworn that he'd seen her somewhere before. As he took another sip from the large mug of ale conveniently left out for him, his vision began to blur and his mind slowed to a snail's pace. Thoughts of the pretty maid were shaken from his mind and he happily gulped more of the delicious ale. His eyelids were almost completely closed as he settled comfortably on the nice ground beneath him. Boris stretched lazily, his guard duties completely forgotten. He didn't even stir when he heard the faint swish of a skirt as someone passed him and slipped out on to the streets. However, when he heard the sharp clang of the latch falling back into place, Boris stumbled to his feet as fast as a drugged man could, under the circumstances. He looked around for a moment, and shrugged when he saw nothing. He surreptitiously kicked the mug of ale out of the way ("How did that get there?" he wondered aloud), and he leaned against the wall, ever the watchful guard. He was nodding off to sleep just as the sun's first light brightened the sky when Lady Gwenneth's scream startled him into tripping over the mug he had ended up kicking into his way earlier (or was it later? Boris didn't know, he was quite confused at the moment)...

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A/N: Thank you for reading! Please review, you'll make my day. (And if that doesn't appeal to you, I've got cookies!)


	2. A Letter And A Journey

Disclaimer: Again, I own nothing. Although I did create Daria's sister's, and the embodiments of her parents. And I suppose Desbond, as well, although I'm under the impression that I read that somewhere before...

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Lady Gwenneth had turned restlessly in her bed the remainder of the night, guilty over the looks on her daughters' faces. She rose at dawn, intending to speak to them as early on as she could. She did not wake her handmaids, instead donning an everyday robe and walking down the hallway, looking quite different from her usual self.

Upon reaching their shared room, she noted that the door had been left slightly ajar. She pushed the ornate door so that it opened a bit more and let herself in. The curtains were drawn around both beds. She was struck with a sudden feeling of terror. Lady Gwenneth was not one to lose her composure, even when she was alone. However, she threw open the heavy hangings around Sarah's bed and sighed in relief as she saw Sarah's golden curls peeking out from a heavy comforter. A slight draft blew into the room, and Lady Gwenneth left Sarah to close the widow. She moved on to Daria, may haps she was reading in bed as she had done before.

Lady Gwenneth frowned. What was this? Each bed had a double layer of curtain surrounding it, providing privacy as a single layer wasn't dark at all. But around Daria's bed hung only one. Lady Gwenneth cracked open the curtains, not knowing what she would see. What she did see heightened the feeling of dread swelling in the pit of her stomach. Gone were the blankets and sheets on the bed, as was the girl. In their place was a letter written in Daria's familiar handwriting.

Lady Gwenneth reached for the letter with trembling fingers and sank into the bare mattress as she read.

It was from Daria, as she had thought. The tone was calm, although the rushed forming of the letters gave Lady Gwenneth a hint of what Daria must have looked like, her fingers stained with ink as she wrote by candlelight. It was short, a mere paragraph, which hurt Lady Gwenneth. Did a mother not deserve more of a parting note if her daughter had to run away?

_Dear Mother,_

_Don't bother waking Sarah for an interrogation. What she knows, she will tell you in due time. I've run away, as you've probably figured out by now. I'll come back in due time (by my free will or if someone should chance upon recognizing me). I've no doubt that you'll start searching right away _(upon reading this, Lady Gwenneth cringed visibly at the sarcasm)_ for me, mother. I think you should know that the guard at the gate is rather dim (yes, I'm speaking of Boris)._

_Until my return (unless I'm killed, in which case this is the last you'll hear of me) _(and at this Lady Gwenneth's eyes began to tear)

_Daria_

Lady Gwenneth managed to emit a strangled scream that woke the entire household before she fainted.

---

A neat, pretty scullery maid walked down a dusty road. Humming a soft tune, she swung a basket as she walked. She had forgotten her dusty skirts (she had walked at least a quarter of a mile already) and aching feet with the rising of the sun. She stopped as she felt the strange prickle of eyes on her back. Glancing nervously around her, she saw no-one and continued walking.

Lady Daria -- or Abbey, as she had decided to call herself, should she have to -- shrugged off the feeling and quickened her pace. Daria hoped to see other travelers. She had the suspicion that she was being watched, and with others on the road she figured she'd be safer for a few moments. She planned to escape the open road and rush into the trees unnoticed.

She heard stealthy footsteps behind her and turned, brandishing her basket as if it were a weapon. Seeing no-one, she turned and resumed walking, albeit at an even quicker pace. Suddenly, a young boy of about eight barreled into the stunned woman, knocking her over.

"Sorry, miss," the youth smiled, showing two missing front teeth.

Daria picked up her now rather battered body wearily. "Were you following me?" she narrowed her eyes suspiciously. What if he was part of a band of thieves? What if he was a wizard in disguise, waiting to pounce and gouge out her eyes for a potion of some sort? What if--

Her thoughts were interrupted as a young man emerged from the trees, carrying a small pack. Her breathe caught slightly in her throat. He was beautiful, with long, thick lashes and angular features. He was quite tall, taller than she was, even taller than her father had been, she decided. He had blonde hair so bright it was dazzling, and the bluest eyes she had ever seen. When he spoke, she was mesmerized. His voice was as beautiful as he, not too deep, yet not so high as to be mistaken for a girl. He did not seem to notice her at first, at which she bristled, slightly indigent. Was she not as eye-catching? The youth was the handsome man's relation, it seemed. Ah, Daria thought, satisfied. Brotherly concern, and her perfect image of him in her mind returned.

He turned slightly, and Daria glimpsed a scar on his jaw line. She wondered at how it got there. She had a whole new list of What Ifs when he spoke to her. "I'm sorry if my brother, Tom--" at this he motioned toward the eight-year-old "--hurt you. I'm Joan, his brother." He held out his hand for a shake. At Daria's cold stare (which she mustered with some trouble; she was mesmerized, but she still had her dignity and so did not to lose her head entirely) he looked a bit disgruntled, then angry -- both emotions that flashed across his face for only an instant before being replaced with a charming smile. Despite the sensible voice in her head that told her not to, Daria's diplomatic side won out. She daintily shook his hand as any normal scullery maid should, and adopted a rougher accent.

After that, an awkward silence hung in the air, which Tom immediately began to fill with random chatter. Daria's anger melted; the child was too sweet.

"Would you like to catch a frog?" this particular comment was said loudly, and Daria could not help but agree. She chanced a glance at Joan.

"Is your brother coming?"

"And why wouldn't I? He is my charge, my lady."

At this, Daria froze slightly. She thought quickly, trying to decide upon the easiest way to quell such thoughts. She decided to just ignore him, and started walking, catching up to Tom quite easily. Upon reaching the pond, she set down her basket and followed Tom to a clearing a few yards away, ending up picking flowers and searching for rabbit holes.

After a joyful fifteen minutes, Joan's voice broker through their laughter. "Tom, time to go," he sent his brother a meaningful look, who immediately stood up and nodded his assent. Daria, who hadn't noticed how close Joan had gotten was busily being intoxicated by his body heat.

"Good-bye," Tom said gravely, his serious expression quite funny on his young face.

Daria laughed lightly. "Good-bye, Tom." Her eyes met Joan's. "Good-bye," her voice came out sounding quite colder than it had been, and she watched the two brothers melt into the forest as suddenly as they had appeared with amazement. Shaking her head slightly, she walked back to her basket.

"WHAT?" her cry of dismay rang clearly through the forest. Her basket was empty! True, the only valuable item it contained was a map of Kyrria -- one of her father's, in fact -- but she had been robbed! Robbed! Daria angrily berated herself for playing with complete strangers. Had that not been one the first lessons she had learned? Never throw away your trust!

Her anger lessened into sadness. She sat and held her face in her hands, her muffled crying-induced hiccups coming out like squeaks. Her first endeavor, and she had failed. At this point, she almost wanted to go home.

Almost.

---

A/N: I'd like to thank the wonderful people that took their time to review! You should expect some Jerrold soon (Joan should show that DJ can mean more than one ship... mwahahahahaaa)... As always, please review (I don't think this chapter is quite up to par with the first one ... be brutally honest). I've... got ... lovely words! Brand new, shiny ones...


	3. Sarah Spills and Daria Works

Disclaimer: Anything you've seen in print previously does not belong to this person, rather, it belongs to an author with quite a bit more money (and talent) than I do.

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A small band of newly knighted men rode their tired steeds into a busy marketplace. Attracting wondering looks and receiving entirely too much attention for their leader's comfort, they were quickly bustled into the largest inn in town. Unnoticed among the momentary commotion, a handsome knight slipped away into the bordering forest.

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Daria groaned despairingly. She had walked another quarter mile since that morning, and she'd passed only one farm. When she inquired within for work, the farmer laughed her away. Apparently, a woman couldn't handle the work. A furious Daria had then unleashed her already frayed temper, losing all chance of food or rest.

The high noon sun seemed twice as hot today, Daria thought. She wiped beads of perspiration from her forehead and started in surprise. A house! A beautiful, wonderful house with a bed and food and drink and someplace to rest one's feet...

"Actually, it's more of a hut," a practical female voice broke through her mumbling (had she been mumbling? An embarrassed Daria flushed at the realization). "It hasn't had a fireplace since the last war, I have one bed filled with old straw, there's no food at the moment, and to get water you'll have to haul it up from a well deeper in the forest. But, ignoring my home's imperfections for the moment, why would a pampered woman such as yourself be so enamored with it?"

"Er-- you see, I..." Daria was at a loss. She did not want to reveal her story to this complete stranger; she decided to be blunt and quick, hoping the rejection would be quick. "I'm Abbey, and looking for work."

The lady (more of a crone, really) lost her eyebrows as they flew into her hairline. "Really?" She paused, and looked Daria up and down. Daria nodded earnestly, her hopes rising much higher than she'd let them. "Well, the pay would be nonexistent, but I can offer you food and lodging. I'm Inez, an herbalist--" at Daria's excited look, she wagged her finger at her. "Oh, no, dearie, you won't be handling the plants just yet. I'll have you do the chores that I myself don't like--"

"So I can work here?"

"Yes, what did you--" Daria cut her off. Inez found herself being strangled with a force she didn't think the young woman was capable of. It took her a few seconds to realize she was being hugged, and a few more seconds for her to hug back.

---

Lady Sarah sat despondently in an armchair in front of her mother and aunt. She had been questioned, yelled at, and all in all made very uncomfortable ever since she had finished breakfast, and all because of her older sister. At the moment she was wishing she was the one who had run away.

"All right! I'll tell you! Just take away the pink bears!"

Her mother and Aunt Maurine looked quite taken aback. "Pink ... bears...?"

Oh, right.

In truth, their questioning methods had been quite boring. She was their blood, after all. She decided to speak anyway, half-wishing there had been pink bears, for a distraction.

"Daria ran away," she began, earning a quite unladylike snort from her aunt.

"We know. But where to? With whom?" her Aunt Maurine was quite harried from lack of food, so Sarah decided to forgive her tone.

Sarah sighed. "Don't you want to know why she ran away?"

But Lady Gwenneth had had enough. The Prince was coming in less than a week, her middle child had disappeared, and her youngest was behaving like a stubborn pig. "Sarah Electra Demetrius, if you don't tell me everything right now..." she let her voice trail off, leaving her daughter to use her wild imagination to think up what would happen.

Sarah frowned dourly. "Fine," she spoke in a brusque manner, detailing Daria's plans of escaping to how she would drug Boris. She ended her monologue with a sort of righteous indignation.

"...And if I were her, I would have run away much sooner, mother. Seeing how everyone treats her! She's always in the middle, she thinks she doesn't stand out at all, and you do nothing to encourage her, mother. Last night was the last straw. You basically told her to her face that you believed she wasn't as good of a marriage choice as I was! I mean, Daria doesn't care quite so much about marriage, but in principle it would hurt anyone! All these years, every fairy story we've read, it's either the eldest or the youngest that gets the glory, the attention. It's always the eldest or the youngest that has the quirks and beauty. And after Father died--" at this, her voice faltered, but Sarah went on, fueled by her passion. "And after Father died and Elizabeth got married it just got worse. She thinks you don't love her, mother! She felt needed to do something, and she did. You can't blame her for it, and I'm not going to help you by telling you where she's heading. You needn't say anything," she held up her hand as Lady Gwenneth opened her mouth to speak, "I can see myself to my rooms."

---

Daria was shaken awake from a lovely, much-needed nap by none other than Inez. "All right, it's time to make yourself useful." Ignoring Daria's various protests, she stuffed her into an apron and set her about tidying her messy workplace. Daria was not allowed near any of the plant dyes, they were considered too fragile for her just yet. Instead, after rigorously scrubbing every inch of the meager hut, she fed the chickens, collected their eggs, pruned shrubs, and was thoroughly exhausted when Inez set her about the final task of the day: water duty. She was to bring back two buckets of water, as full as she could get them, and water the shrubs she had pruned (Inez would use the second bucket of water to tend to her other plants and dyes and such).

Daria hummed a song as she looked forward to the end of the day. Her feet did not mind the rough, worn path as she thought of the straw bed that now seemed fit for a king. She did not notice a startled pair of sea-green eyes watching her as she neared the well and began to try to figure out how one worked.

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A/N: I know it's woefully short; I just didn't wanted to give too much away just yet... Dun kill meh! In fact, you should stik with me! The Confrontation, she comes! ;P (Actually sooner than I had initially planned it, but it's not going to satisfy anyone but me after you read it. Hopefully, for reasons other than horrible writing...)

If Daria's walking ability seems strange to you, ignore it. I hurt my big toe yesterday and I'm exaggerating all over the place. (Heh, I was afraid this wouldn't get updated this week, I started it last weekend and I just finished it on Friday. Whoo. Although I was wondering whether I should update weekly or based on numbers of reviews...) I had originally written some of this for the end of the second chapter, so it's short, and it seems rather choppy to me. In short, I hate most of this 'un, too (the only parts I'm a little bit satisfied with are the first and last paragraphs...).

It's come as a relief that most of you (well, those that review, at least-- I love you people) like it; and just a small note, but asking an author to hurry updoesn't really help (although sometimes I wish it did-- the only reason I actually made myself sit down and write this was because of this strange commitment), and I s'pose it's flattering that you like it enough to say that, I end up feeling like delaying updates to spite you.

As always, please read _and_ review! (It makes my life so mcuh better, I swear.) Feel free to criticize, suggest plot twists, new characters, anything! (this has gotten to be a tremendous author note...)


	4. Jerrold Has An Experience

Disclaimer: I do not own Ella Enchanted. If I did, I definitely wouldn't be putting up a story on a fanfiction site, don't you think? But, if you don't believe me, I'm selling my autographs, fifty bucks a pop. Any takers?

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Sir Montgomery performed a quick head-count, intending no keeping his men close for at least a few hours before they set about. To his dismay (but not surprise), one of their number were already gone. Only a few remained, among them a certain blond looker (who was still attracting too much interest for the good of his own ego).

Sir Montgomery muttered a string of curses under his breath and retreated to his rooms. Prince Jerrold definitely had something coming to him, royalty or not.

---

Daria grumbled under her breath as she struggled with the well. She had figured out how to attach it to the pulley system quite quickly, but she had not realized how much water weighed. She dropped the crank again, just as it reached the mouth of the well when she heard a small peal of almost-surpressed laughter.

She wheeled around, and came face-to-face with a laughing commoner. She gritted her teeth and spoke with forced civility. "Are you waiting for use of the well?" Inez had not told her it was theirs alone, and she did not want to make fool of herself again in front of this ... person.

At her tone the rude commoner stopped laughing and she could see he was quite handsome. He had curly hair only a shade darker than her own, sharp, chiseled features and interesting sea-green (almost blue, really, Daria thought), eyes. He did not speak, merely looked her up and down, and stepped back a little, as if he had forgotten himself.

---

Jerrold was caught unawares by a pretty maid looking at him angrily. Ah, he thought. It was the laughing. He gave a little bow (which the maid snorted at, which left him a little angry, for he thought he had grasped commoners' etiquette quite well over the past few years), and spoke to her with a polite, distant voice. "I am sorry for disturbing you, my lady--"

He was cut short by the woman turning around and ignoring him, resuming her war with the well. He spoke again with a touch of irritated interest in his voice. "You could at least listen to me when I speak, Miss..."

She did not take this as an invitation to speak her name, rather, she continued her fruitless war with the well. Jerrold frowned, irritated. He was not used to being ignored by anyone other than his parents, who were the King and Queen, and not some commoner who he had thought about helping...

"Well?" she spoke with her back turned.

"What?" Jerrold was confused. Was he supposed to try greeting her again? Perform some remote villager meeting ritual? Apologize? Well, he was definitely not going to do any of those things, and if the wench thought he would--

"I could ... use some help."

Jerrold could tell by her stiff shoulders and forced demeanor that she was not enjoying this at all. He grinned evilly. "Oh?"

"Yes."

"And what am I supposed to do about that?" Jerrold was enjoying acting as rudely as possible. At the palace, his mother would probably be dragging him away by the ear right about now, and he almost flinched, half-expecting the familiar pinch.

"What happened to being polite? Chivalry and all that?" She had turned around and wore a challenging look on her face. Amused, Jerrold took the bait.

"You ended those notions quite a while ago, wench, and unless you're some baron's daughter I doubt they'll be returning," Jerrold could almost see her blood boiling, and indeed, she looked beautiful when she was angry. Her nose scrunched up in the nicest way, and her hair, once tied back so neatly, was quickly coming loose. Why, even her eyes seemed darker, with a beautiful glint--

Jerrold's thoughts quickly disappeared as a considerable amount of water was upended on his head. He spluttered indignantly. "Wha--" he ducked as the bucket came flying after the water. "What in Kyrria's name do you think you're doing!"

She crossed her arms smugly. "Wenches enjoy causing pain, I thought you'd have realized that by now, my lord!"

Jerrold narrowed his eyes. A glimmer of an idea wormed it's way into the front of his brain. Smiling, he adopted a sickeningly sweet demeanor. "Ah, my lady, as you have bested me, I suppose I am honor-bound to help." He picked up the bucket lying by his feet and advanced cautiously, wary of more buckets. When she did nothing, he set the bucket down the well and pulled up quite a bit more water. Grinning mischievously, he upended the bucket on her head, and left it their. Laughing at her surprised scream, he did not have time to duck this time as the badly aimed bucket hit his shoulder.

"Ouch! What did you do that for?"

"I should think that was obvious--"

An impatient harumph broke into their bickering. They both turned, and out of the corner of his eye, Jerrold saw the maiden pale considerably, and he could've sworn he heard her mutter something like "Inez" under her breath. The source of the harumph was an old woman, who moved with surprising agility and seized both their ears with vehemence. Jerrold cursed under his breath. Uncle Monty was going to kill him.

---

Lady Gwenneth was distraught. She let her sister handle the preparations for the knights, she set herself upon finding scouts to search for her daughter. She had called her father to help her, and he obliged. Sir Vernon was not to be trifled with, and the dozens of scouts they had found had set off at a thundering pace.

However, there was still the matter of Boris. Lady Gwenneth had wanted her father to fire him for her, but he insisted all he would to was stand by in case he got violent.

"Now, Boris..." Lady Gwenneth eyed him with trepidation. He looked so hopeful, standing there as if he was a scout as well. Lady Gwenneth's eyes brightened as the thought struck her.

"Boris, do you want to keep your position here?"

Boris nodded. "Yes, your Ladyship."

"You can!" Boris smiled delightedly, revealing a missing tooth "But... I have conditions." Boris' face fell slightly. "You can keep you position if you can find my daughter," and, not waiting to see his reaction, she sent him off.

"This will come back to haunt you, daughter."

"Oh, psh, Father, it's not as if he'll actually find her! And then we'll be rid of him!"

Sir Vernon smiled mischievously. "You are not as clever as you think. But, come, Maurine is calling you, she's screaming about something having to do with a rosebush..." His comment having produce just the reaction he had wanted from his oldest, he set off pointing Boris in the right direction, intending for his daughter to learn her lesson quite well.

---

Sir Montgomery was quite shocked as Jerrold came up to him in the tavern's main room. His nephew was quite wet, and his eyes were smoldering with anger. The only words he spoke to the now comfortably dressed (and warm) man were that the townspeople had yet to find out who he was. He led the man down a dusty road past the outskirts of the town and into a small huttish house, where an obviously irritated elderly woman greeted them. Sir Montgomery groaned inwardly. What had Jerrold done now? The boy was not a quiet traveler. Every town, nay, every farmhouse they passed caused them trouble, usually thanks to his annoyingly curious nephew.

---

A/N: The spelling/grammar errors in the previous note are niggling at me; I'll have to fix them sometime... (Remember the first paragraph in the chappie? JERROLD! As you've all figured out by now, hopefully...) Squee! It's very easy to figure out the effect Daria and Jerrold are going to have on each other, no? But, down to business. I love you all. Well, only those that review ((thanks to Lalaith8, Lilybet Edyvean (who I love doubly as much), HI! (who also deserves a cookie), Bridget, Emily, sourjellybeans56, itsallabout me, and Kittycutie)), who I'm finally thanking by name this week.

itsallaboutme: Have you read the book very carefully? Because the recurring names of some of the characters (in the reviews and in the story) should drop you a hint. No? Well, Daria is Prince Charmont's mother, and, looking at the summary, it implies that this is how his parents fell in love. (At least, I'm saying they fell in love, because an arranged marriage makes for a less romantic plotline... They could certainly learn to love each other, but then there're no passionate, stolen kisses and confusion and hurt... Though I suppose you could work it in to the story somehow, if you really wanted to, but that's not what I'm writing, so... er, no more rambling. Right.)

Hah! Finally, some Jerrold! All right, it was brief (which is what I meant before about the satisfaction rating), but it's much harder to write Jerrold than Daria, I find. The plotlines and basic jist are in my head, but I'm not entirely satisfied (but when am I ever?) with the writing. But, alas, it must be done, and I do love him, and since the pairing in this story is canon, he can't mysteriously disappear like I want him to when I'm writing this thing. Of course, I could just keep the third person slightly Daria-based, but that wouldn't be half as fun as having a muddled Jerrold sort out his feelings and such. And besides, the bias would leave you in the dark concerning Jerrold's side of the story.

This was intended to be a very, very short (a few chapters, at most) friendship ficlet about Daria and Jerrold (mostly to sort out these unloved and depressing feelings Daria's been having), but it's running away with me at an alarming rate. (And, knowing how much I ramble, the only thing you'll look forward to is the ending, which is the only thing I will NOT let myself drag out-- I have this fear of rushing things in the story, you see, hence Jerrold's surprisingly late appearance.)

Again, I apologize for the horribly long note (which, consequently, is no longer a note at all...), and the horribly short chapter!


	5. Vendors, Pt One

Disclaimer: I don't own Ella Enchanted. (Boringest disclaimer in the world. x-x)

_The Queen was greeted with an astonishing sense of déjà vu. Her teenage son had come home from a simple walk covered in mud. Apparently, he had been hiding from the court ladies. His grandmother tutted impatiently._

_"Where in the world does he get it from? His mothers side, no doubt," she added under her breath. Her Highness Daria pursed her lips for a moment, and decided not to respond._

_When the King finally showed up, the matching bemused expressions on both faces caused her to double over in laughter, earning her a disapproving glare from mother-in-law Enna. Suddenly, she remembered something the King had once looked like._

---

Daria could feel the insolent commoner's glare on her back. "This is all your fault, you know."

"And -- how is -- that?" She responded in between pants.

The two were chopping down an old, sick tree behind Inez's house. Daria, because she worked there, and the commoner (George? Jack? what did it matter, anyway? Daria thought crankily), because he slowed Daria down (the commoner had had a good laugh at that, an earned himself more work) and Inez's more delicate plants had been damaged. George (Jack?) was to work there with the rude wench as he had so kindly called her until Inez thought his damage had been accounted for.

"Well, if you hadn't thrown that bucket at me we wouldn't be -- here right now. Or -- at least, I -- wouldn't!" George (Jack?) was having an easier time of it than Daria. It was probably because of all the hay he threw as a farmer or something, or at least that was what Daria thought...

"Oh -- you deserved -- that one! And if I could do it again -- I would," the tired, sweaty noble's daughter threw down the ax (which was actually quite heavy) and squelched into a sitting position.

The muddy ground beneath them was making the relatively easy task hard -- the tree just happened to be next to a stream. (Upon realizing this, a flustered Daria had earned herself more downtime with him because of a nasty case of sailor's tongue, which Inez just happened to hear.)

"What are you doing? Get up!" George (Jack?) Threw down his own ax and squelched around the rather large tree to where she was sitting. "We cant leave until this thing is felled."

"So? I'm taking a break," Daria spoke crossly.

"No, you're not. The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can leave."

Daria did not get up. However, she did scream. Loudly. A slimy glob had struck her head and was now trickling through her hair. (All right, it was cooling her down, but how dare he!) Incensed, Daria scooped up a palmful of mud and hurled it at George (Jack?). She missed by a league, at least. Again, George (Jack?) made the mistake of laughing (with his eyes closed, Daria noticed evilly). Daria picked up another handful of mud and advanced, effectively silencing her squelches

---

Boris was confused. Knights? Here? He entered the tavern with trepidation. However, he saw what the men were all drinking and his fear disappeared. They couldn't be that bad. Its not like they were drinking imported wines, right? Boris rented a room from a pretty lady and took a seat next to a man named Montgomery...

---

Daria and George (Jack?) Met a very angry Inez when they finally finished their task around midday. Daria thought she saw a smile, but the notion quickly disappeared as they were given yet another task. She silenced their protests with a glare and sent them off to clean up before they entered town. (Daria, received a particularly strong glare -- she could've sworn it scorched -- because she dirtied Inez's floors when she fell from laughing at the owlish look on Jerrold's mud covered face. This wouldn't be the last time the look got her into trouble...) They were deliver newly dyed cloth, and sell a few of the common plants she grew at the market.

Little did she know that earlier that day her Ladies Gwenneth and Sarah had set off for some knight-welcoming shopping...

---

"Tomatoes, a penny each!"

"Lilies, roses, tulips! Get everything in one cheap stall!"

The pair were bombarded with overlapping shouts from every direction. As they passed a stall containing fawning ladies, a sly crone beckoned to Jerrold. "Lovely trinkets I've got, lad! Make your lady smile, no?"

"What're you doing?" An interested Abbey appeared behind Jerrold's shoulder. "Oooh! Look! She's got a cute green parrot--" blushing Jerrold shook his head at the smiling crone and pulled Abbey away, mumbling incoherent things about garbage under his breath.

"Here we are. Inez's usual stall..."

What met them resembled a dung heap. Everything was either extremely dirty or broken. After more arguing, Abbey swept out the space while Jerrold held the merchandise a good distance away (while trying to avoid the looks of the towns female population). They switched jobs and Jerrold set up shelves and an Abbey oblivious to whistles tried peaking at what they were going to sell. A few extra minutes and they were set up. However, they weren't getting many customers.

"I think we have to ... yell."

"Yell?"

"Advertisement!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

And so it went until the neighboring merchant threw a rotten tomato at them. Actually, it was more like an avalanche of merchandise no-one would buy.

It was going to be a long day, thought Jerrold. And a long week, as well.

A/N: I know, it's short and definetely not worth the wait. I was having multitudes of editing problems and authoring-insecurity. So, you'll be getting the rest of their day as a separate chapter -- I'm rewriting that, and I felt too guilty to keep it on hold for two weeks. You should, however, look forward to it. Inklings of romance begin! And, as always, please review. It'll make me write/update faster/on time! xD And, while you wait, you can read and reviewmy other story, Cindy, as well!


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